Life Lessons

I've learned a few this morning.

1.  It's always good to make sure all of the family is invited to a Birthday Party.  I. E., don't banish the dogs to the back yard.

2.  Otis can reach the middle of the dining room table - especially if there's a birthday cake on it.

3.  It's called "Marble Cake" for a reason.  It turns to something closely akin to real marble when mixed with dog slobber and applied to a hardwood floor.

4.  My bathrobe is made of the same stuff as the microfiber cloths I was using to clean up the aforementioned "marble".  At least they can go in the same load in the washer.

5.  When you come into a room that looks either like the Three Stooges staged a pie fight or some terrorist put an IED in a birthday cake, all you can do is laugh and start cleaning it up.

Hope y'all have a great day.

The World's a Better Place

A long time ago, in a place far away, the world became a better place when you came into it.  I am honored that you chose me to be the one to share your life, and I love you with all of my heart.  The 44-odd years that we've known each other have flown by, filled with more joy than anyone has a right to expect.  I'm looking forward to a bunch more.  

I hope this day is as special for you as all of the days I've known you have been for me.

Happy Birthday, Marilyn.

George the Cat

This morning we lost our long time companion George.  As you can see from the picture, he had a tough life.

When we got him as a kitten, he had trouble getting around on our hardwood floors, so we called him Gracie because he was the most graceless kitten you would ever want to see, and Marilyn thought he was a she.

She became Queen of the House, terrorizing Wally, and shredding hands whenever she felt a need to exercise her claws.

Imagine our surprise when we took her to be spayed, and the vet told us she was really a he.  It was at this point that he became George.

When he graduated to being an outdoor cat, he took to it like a fish to water.  He was king of the yard, and kept it free of birds, squirrels, and whatever else he took a dislike to.  He would sit by the front door, or on one of the porch chairs waiting for us to return from where ever we were, and would bound down the front steps to greet us like a dog.  He would patiently wait by the front door for us to feed him, except on those days when he would scratch at the storm door to get our attention and demand his food.  On those rare occasions when he could come into the house, he would occupy whatever lap was available and sleep until someone had to get up.

I'm not particularly a cat person, but George was OK in my book.

George, rest well in whatever feline heaven you've gone to.  Be the lion that was in your heart.  You will be missed.